


(all of the time) you'll be mine

by makeitbetter



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, everything i write from john has him pining horribly, gratuitous use of the word 'and' but it's stylistic i promise, johnny i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitbetter/pseuds/makeitbetter
Summary: it’s summer, and there are good things around the corner, you can feel it.//(or: john, paul, and the span of a year)





	(all of the time) you'll be mine

**Author's Note:**

> written whilst listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxWEjxRAcf4) on repeat, because it always makes me think of these two goofs and i cry every time. 
> 
> ten points to anyone who sees the (not) subtle 'i wanna hold your hand' reference, hsjfkjfkjfk

**s u m m e r **

it’s summer, and there are good things around the corner, you can feel it.

it’s summer, and your life is made up of gigs in liverpool, and band practices in pete’s garage, and cigarettes shared on long evenings - a true musician’s life, everything you’ve ever wanted.

it’s summer, and it’s made of moments when you think you could be on top of the fucking world, and moments when paul smiles at you and turns your stomach to butterflies and you can’t figure out why. 

** a u t u m n **

it’s autumn, and the nights begin to draw it.

it’s autumn, and the view outside bleeds hues of red and orange, leaves crunching under your feet as you walk up the front path of number twenty, guitar in hand and a notebook of half-finished musings burning a hole in your back pocket.

it’s autumn, and paul watches the change in season from the living room window, a mug of tea in his hand and a smile on his lips, and you know you’re staring, staring, _staring_, but you’re not sure what part of it all you’re staring at.

it’s autumn, and one night you dream of paul in your bed, and by the time you wake up he’s got a knee between yours and a fistful of your shirt in his grasp.

(it’s autumn, and you feel like you’re about to have some kind of heart attack, because _what the fuck_ -)

it’s autumn, and stuart pulls you to one side one day and tells you you’ve got yourself into something stupid again - like you don’t already know that. 

** w i n t e r **

it’s winter, and you start to see the clouds of your breath in front of you.

it’s winter, and paul is telling you he’s been told to find a real job, one that pays, and you’re telling him not to be so fucking stupid, that he’s either with you or he's not.

(it’s winter, and your heart is in your throat when he has to think about it, and it’s thumping in your chest when he chooses you.)

it’s winter, and george keeps sending you these looks every now and then, like he knows what’s going on in your head but doesn’t know what to say to make it right.

it’s winter, and there are cold nights spent by the window, smoking cigarette after cigarette and trying to pretend you’re thinking about something, _anything_, that isn’t kissing your best mate.

it’s winter, and there’s a day when you walk into a pub and see paul there with a girl, and you turn around and walk right back out again and don’t sleep at all that night.

it’s winter, and you’re so fucking _tired_. 

** s p r i n g **

it’s spring, and paul comes over to your place more often than not, guitar in hand, for hours upon hours upon hours.

it’s spring, and you’re less tired these days.

it’s spring, and paul is suddenly looking at you in a way you don’t understand, a way you can’t describe, and it bothers you that you don’t know what it means.

it’s spring, and it’s not the same anymore.

it’s spring, and paul starts avoiding you.

it’s spring, and you’re marching up to the familiar house on forthlin road, demanding to know what the fuck is going on with him, why he’s suddenly avoiding you like you’re the plague incarnate, and paul simply stares at you, wide eyed and frozen, a deer in the headlights, and for a moment you think he’s about start crying there on the spot.

it’s spring, and you know those feelings well, too well, and the thought that maybe _paul_ knows it too makes you stop.

it’s spring, and you’re in love with your best mate to the point where it almost hurts - and now you’re asking if he’s in love with you too.

it’s spring, and paul is sat on the sofa with his head in his hands because the only answer is _yes_, and the only thing to do is to gently pull his hands away from his face and hold them in yours until he understands. 

** s u m m e r **

it’s summer, and the last of the spring has faded.

it’s summer, and it finds you scribbling in that old notebook as you sit on the bed at forthlin road, messing around with chord placements.

it’s summer, and paul’s head is resting in your lap as you work, and your fingers thread through his hair just because you can do that now.

it’s summer, and paul pushes himself up to kiss you, and you think that those good things just around the corner may have finally found their way to you.


End file.
